


Irrevocable

by blackeyedqueen



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Angst, Deaf Character, Deaf Tim Drake, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, They're Working Through It, mild depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 16:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8585740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackeyedqueen/pseuds/blackeyedqueen
Summary: Every morning, there is a moment, just before Tim remembers. Until he realizes he can't hear.





	

Every morning, there is a moment before Tim remembers. His bed is cozy, his limbs are wrapped around a warm body, he can smell Jason’s shampoo in his hair and the soap on his skin from his shower the night before. For just the briefest of moments, everything is perfect. Until Tim realizes _he can’t hear_.

He remembers, then; the accident, the pain, the terror, the second (and third and fourth) opinions, the hope that it was temporary, the hurt when it became increasingly clear that it wasn’t, the days when he wouldn’t get out of bed, the fights with his family. All of it flashes through him and then weighs him down and pushes him further into his bed.

And then there’s that thought in his head,  _maybe I just won’t get up today_. He rolls over to his own side of the bed, he squeezes his eyes shut, he sighs heavy and loud (is it loud? It feels loud. He can’t really tell), and he clenches his fists and wills himself to not be conscious for just a while longer.

But without fail, Jason rolls himself over to Tim. He wraps himself around Tim as best he can with Tim folded in on himself. And he rubs his warm, calloused hands on Tim’s shoulders and arms, rubs his thumb on the back of Tim’s neck, nuzzles his face into Tim’s back and leaves a small trail of kisses across his shoulder blades. Then he turns him over so they’re face-to-face, looks into his eyes, cups his cheek and smiles at him. It’s one of those smiles that reminds Tim that everything’s going to be okay. (They communicate like this a lot; with facial expressions, soft touches, long looks. Lips on shoulders, teeth on necks, hands on hips. Thumbs wiping tears on cheeks. Hard knuckles on the meat of an arm. It’s almost the same but without the words.)

They’ve made a lot of progress since those terrible first days. They’re all fluent in American Sign Language now, but it’s a whole new way of communicating that no one is quite used to, yet. Tim’s learned to use his other heightened senses to his advantage. Tim’s back on patrol as Red Robin after nearly a year of pushing himself to his limits to recover and train and convince Bruce that he was ready. Tim’s learned to accept support from his family, and learned to realize his life’s _not over._

He knows it’s different. Irrevocably different. He’ll never hear his family and friends yell at each other or laugh. He’ll never hear Bruce’s comforting voice, or Batman’s deep intimidating one. He’ll never hear birds chirping, thunder clapping, dogs barking, footsteps running on concrete, grappling hooks whipping from their guns, the air whistling in his ears while he swings and flies from rooftop to rooftop… He’ll never hear Jason. He’ll never hear his bad singing in the shower, or his cussing while he’s trying to drive through rush hour in Gotham. He’ll never hear him say, “Babybird, I love you.” He can sign it, he can write, but Tim will never _hear_ it. Tim’s had to mourn the loss of all of these sounds he’ll never get to hear again.

But it’s getting easier. Because every morning Jason is there to hold Tim together when he’s about to fall apart and to remind him that things are going pretty okay. Jason, who took it probably harder than Tim when this all went down; who spent days on end just angry because Tim doesn’t deserve this shit, angry that it wasn’t even a patrol or mission that did this, it was an asshole who ran a red-light. Jason, who wanted that guy’s _blood._ Jason, who now writes Tim letters every night (because he wants to get his point across better. “ _Now don’t give me that look,_ ” he signed, with his thick clumsy fingers as he handed Tim the first one. “ _Come on, just read it_.”). They’re about how far they’ve come and how strong Tim is and how Jason is going to be there for him, because, “Dammit, Babybird, I love you. And I need you, probably more than you need me. So I’ll be here for you, as long as you’ll have me. You’re doing good, kid, don’t give up.”

Tim still goes to bed hoping the morning will just give him _something_ good. That he’ll hear Jason’s awful snoring or the alarm clock blaring. Anything.

And every morning, all he gets are those few blessed few moments before he remembers.

And Jason is there to pull Tim against his chest in a silent assurance that it’s going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is so short! This is a very brief drabble that was requested by one of my very good friends, and has spawned a much larger fic that I'm currently working through. So keep an eye out for that :).
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not deaf, nor do I know anyone who's deaf, but I tried to do some research, especially because I'm writing a longer fic. I deeply apologize for any gross inaccuracies, please point them out to me. or like, if you wanna give feedback in general that would be great, too!
> 
> find me on tumblr (@fakegenjimain) or twitter (@marmorasblade)


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